A gay story: The One-Way Voyage (Day 99) DAY NINETY-NINE
At sea again.
Those two weeks were even worse than I’d expected. Not only had Master squeezed my dick into a hiding place where even I couldn’t see it, he no longer allowed me in his bed, not even to be fucked. When he wanted me, he’d simply throw me over the arm of his couch and fuck me there, just as we had fucked Suresh. I slept next to his bed, alone on the futon.
Every day of my dick’s confinement made me progressively more horny, until my balls were tingling and my skin was hungry for any form of human contact. I looked forward to my daily fuckings; as rough and uncomfortable as they were, they were as close as I ever got to relief. Otherwise, there were only mealtimes, when I snuggled against Master’s leg and played my old tricks. I could still get him to rub my neck and shoulders if I nudged him in the right way. It was heavenly.
Aside from those occasions, he hardly paid any attention to me. Master spent most of his day either working, or supervising the preparation of Mariposa for our return voyage. The sails needed patching, the hull had to be scraped, and the boat refueled and restocked. Or at least, that’s what I overheard him say.
Speaking of my balls, the dick cage Master put on me wasn’t exactly flattering them. From beneath the steel disk that kept my dick tucked inside me, my balls emerged in a prominent protrusion. Since they were tattooed with orange scales, the effect was as if some exotic fungus was growing out of my crotch. When I peed, it went through the catheter and came out of a hole in the middle of the disk, but because my balls stuck out so far, they got wet every time.
The way they called attention to themselves demanded they be fondled, or so Suresh both seemed to think. He couldn’t resist fingering my scrotum anytime it was within reach. He even did it in front of Master, who said nothing, which meant I had to put up with it.
Suresh continued to supervise my workouts. He was caged too, but at least he could wear a sarong over his junk. He had the same peeing problem I had; I know because I asked him, but more important, he was getting just as twitchy as I was. I could see it. Five days into our mutual dick confinements, I tried getting close to him during a workout and brushed my bare skin against his, just to see what would happen.
It was like an electric spark. Suddenly his hands were moving across my chest, down to my balls for a bit of fingering, and back up again. He kissed me hard and somehow we ended up making out on the rubber mat in the exercise room. He even let me pull off his sarong and stroke the insides of his thighs. We brought our balls together and rubbed the sacks against each other, and it was almost like sex.
Suresh pulled me close and kissed me once more, a long kiss with lots of tongue. “I don’t know if Master would allow this.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“I’ve heard that one before,” he replied sourly. But then he ran his fingers down my spine as he kissed me again, and I melted.
Later that day, I did the math and realized that it was my birthday. Happy birthday to me! I was twenty-one years old. I was old enough to buy beer legally. The next time I was in San Francisco, cruising for a guy who’d feed me and offer me a place to crash, I’d have other clubs to choose from besides The Dungeon.
Afterward, Suresh and I set aside some time for kissing and touching during every workout; our mutual horniness would not be denied. The make-out sessions got longer each time, until yesterday, my last full day on the island, our entire training session consisted of hands on chests and fingers stroking thighs and lots of kisses. Suresh had soft, full, beautiful lips.
Once we realized it was almost time for my lunch with Master, we both sat up. Suresh put his arm around my shoulders, pulled me close one last time, and said, “I’m sorry for what I said before. I was being cruel. The truth is, you are a pretty good fuck.”
“Thanks,” I said. “So are you.”
Suresh eyed me for a moment, as if deciding whether to take offense. He must have decided against it, because he kissed me one last time. “I’m going to miss this cute little slave.”
“Maybe I’ll come back next year.”
Suresh stood, turned away from me, and began pacing. I watched his protruded scrotum move with each step until he put his sarong back on. “I don’t know if I should tell you this.”
When people say that, it means they are definitely going to tell you whatever it is. I grinned and said, “Come on, what is it?”
Suresh remained stonily grim. He knelt beside me and said, “I was Master’s slave, once.”
I scoffed. “Is that all? I already figured that out.”
“I was the first one, I think. I was lucky. When Master was finished fucking me, he offered me this job. I’m happy here, and I’ll always be grateful, but you know, you are not the second. Or even the third. I’ve lost count. Fifth or sixth, maybe?” He paused and looked at me with hard, dark eyes. “Do you know what Master did with the other ones?”
I tried to laugh, but nothing came. I shook my head.
Suresh raised his hand, then moved it in an arc over an imaginary obstacle, then let it fall as he made a splashing sound.
“You’re kidding me.”
“He threw them overboard when he was done with them. The sharks ate well, and no one was the wiser. Did you think he was going to let you go, after all you’ve seen and everything he’s done to you?” He smiled weakly, put his arm around my neck, and pulled me against him. “Maybe you did. You are very stupid, after all.”
I didn’t know what was more frightening: what Suresh was telling me, or that he was using the pronoun you. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I like you, in spite of the fact that you’ve been nothing but an enormous pain in my ass. I want to say goodbye properly. I truly will miss you. There’s nothing you can do to avoid what is to come, but when Master throws you into the sea, understand he only does it because a man in his position has no choice. He cares for his slaves, in his own way. Sometimes he confides in me how much he misses the ones that are gone. When your time comes, remember that it was no shortcoming of your own but merely because Master has no other choice.” Suresh glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh, my, you’ll be late for lunch.”
* * *
Suresh’s words struck fear into me, because they had the ring of truth.
I knew there must have been other slaves. I could see that Master was too skilled at managing a slave for there to be any other explanation. Naively, I had thought maybe when Master finished with those other slaves, he’d paid them off in exchange for their silence.
Now I saw how foolish I had been. If Master were willing to pay for a slave, he could have advertised online. It would have been cheaper to hire a travel companion up front than to pay a slave for his silence after the fact.
But you know what would be cheaper still? Pushing the slave overboard, that’s what.
Master had hinted once or twice that might be my fate. I remembered the day he caught me poking around in the cockpit. He almost pitched me over the side right then and there.